In the Midnight Hour
by Nirvana1
Summary: //UlquiorraOrihime// Insanity had to be the cause. She had no other explanation as to why a very dead Arrancar was haunting her.


**Title:** In the Midnight Hour

**Genre:** Angst/General

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **[UlquiorraOrihime] Insanity had to be the cause. She had no other explanation as to why a very dead Arrancar was haunting her.

**Author's Notes: **My second Bleach oneshot. Yay! There are some things I would like to point out: this ficlet is long, longer than I anticipated. Also, for those who enjoy listening to music while they read, _Twice by Little Dragon_ was on repeat while I wrote this oneshot. If you're interested, give it a listen. That's it for now. I hope you enjoy the story. Writing it was certainly an adventure.

______

On a hot, sunny morning, all alone, Inoue Orihime died in her sleep. Rukia was the first to discover her.

_____

_It was an unnaturally warm night in Las Noches, and Orihime was restless. _

_Though she had tried many times to surrender to slumber, her body screaming with exhaustion, sleep was evasive, and she found herself staring at the eerily bright crescent moon. It contrasted sharply with the black sky, somehow looking familiar and foreign to her all at once. What was even more disheartening was that there were no stars, not even the faintest twinkle of diamond. Their absence made Orihime yearn all the more for her home, her friends, her bed. _

_She twisted fitfully, changed positions, turned away from the moon's rays but nothing seemed to ease her. How many days had it been? Perhaps one, ten, twenty, maybe more? This place seemed to have a way of stretching every single moment, every detail to its fullest extent. Orihime was sick of it, miserable. All she wanted was to return to Kurakura, eat lunch with Tatsuki, speak with—_

_Orihime deliberately stopped her train of thought. For as long as she had been here, her mind had been traveling in circles, starting and ending with him before she could really comprehend what she was thinking. In the deepest, darkest crevices of her mind, Orihime indulged herself in believing he thought of her half as much as she did him. Was he training to become stronger? Was he recruiting as much help as he could? Was he on his way here right now? Did he even care? _

_Orihime curled herself into a ball, her eyes fluttering shut against the depressing thoughts she was conjuring in her head. He probably thought she was a good for nothing traitor. Why would he waste his time coming for her? Besides, she had willingly come here to keep him, all of them, safe. Her actions would be in vain if they even considered rescuing her. But still, a selfish part of Orihime wanted them here, beside her, to give her strength. _

_In the quiet of her room, Orihime murmured his name. "Kurosaki-kun…whatever you're doing, I hope you're safe." _

_She stiffened when she heard the door to her bedroom slide open. Orihime was expecting Ulquiorra to be standing there, coldly demanding to know why she was still awake. When nothing but silence greeted her, she carefully, gradually glanced over her shoulder, coming face to face with no one. _

_Suspicion and fear started to bubble up inside her. Who would possibly come to see her at this hour? In response, her mind supplied plenty of mental pictures of Grimmjow, Ichimaru or even worst, Aizen. Orihime shuddered violently and huddled in on herself. After several minutes passed and the door remained innocently open, the very beginnings of curiosity were sparked in her. She had only seen miniscule parts of Las Noches. It was dark enough that she could go unseen, and the temptation to explore was growing too much for her to bear. _

_Her decision made, Orihime got to her feet and crossed the distance from her bed to the open door. She poked her head out, looking in both directions and saw nothing but shrouded, dwarfing, seemingly endless corridors. She started to the left, walking slowly and every so often, looking back to see if she was being followed. _

_If there was one thing Orihime loathed about Las Noches, it was the silence. It was such a glaring, constant presence, inescapable in its magnitude, and somehow, it always seemed to steal away any emotion she felt except for despair and hopelessness. She couldn't understand how any being could survive, let alone live, in such conditions. She didn't understand how she could. It seemed as if this bleak world took a little bit of her soul and her optimism everyday. Surely it would steal everything from her until there was nothing left. _

_Orihime leaned against the wall as she approached a corner, exhaling a heavy breath. She was starting to reconsider venturing outside her quarters. Aside from the great possibility of being caught, where could she run to? There was no escape for her as long as she was here; Ulquiorra had made sure to make that point crystal clear._

_She was about to retreat back to her bedroom when she heard a shriek pierce the night air. Orihime placed a hand against her heart, attempting to slow the erratic flutter in her chest with deep, long breaths but to no avail. She pressed herself against the wall, straining to hear where the source of the noise had come from. There was another shout, a woman's cry, and Orihime could determine she wasn't far. In fact, she was very near, just around the corner…_

_"My, my," came a quiet, amused voice, "if you keep yelling like that, you'll wake the whole of Las Noches." A dark chuckle ensued. "Not that I mind though." _

_"Nnoitra, you pervert," a woman spat, disgusted. "Let me go!" _

_Orihime peeked, spotting the looming, slim figure of the fifth Espada cornering an Arrcancar she had never seen before. He gripped at her wrist tightly, smiling a smile too wide and leering. His tongue darted out, long and curling, almost serpentine, and licked the span of his thin lips. The woman visibly cringed. Orihime, squinting, got a better look of the girl and quickly recognized her to be Loly. _

_"Let you go?" Nnoitra repeated. "I will. But first, you'll have to do me a favor." _

_Outraged, Loly clawed at his arm and flailed. "No!" she yelled. "Let me go now! Aizen-sama—"_

_He laughed outright,_ _his voice carrying to the highest reaches of the fortress.__ "Aizen-sama can't save you now. I'll—" Nnoitra paused, and if possible, his manic smile grew. "It seems we have another guest." _

_Orihime felt her heart skip a beat. She turned and started to run but he was too fast. She felt an intense pain grip at her neck, easily cutting off her air supply and stopping any vocal protest Orihime could have made. Her head slammed into a nearby wall, heightening her pain while dizzying lights popped in her vision. _

_"Pet-sama," __Nnoitra greeted. His voice was warm, frightfully so. Orihime recoiled, sickened by the mock kindness in his voice and the lecherous look in his stare. "It's been so long since I've seen you." He mercilessly tightened his hold on her neck. Her eyes rolled back as her sight momentarily came in and out of focus, the throbbing in her skull numbing her. "And here I thought you'd be happy to see me," he murmured. "I guess not." _

_Nnoitra released a disappointed sigh and said in an admonishing tone, "Wandering around Las Noches by yourself, Pet-sama? Tsk, tsk. From what I can see, it seems you haven't been trained properly." His free hand came up to harshly grip at her breast and Orihime squirmed. "Looks like I should take care of that, and you." Nnoitra's voice was thick with promise. _

_His only warning was the sharp spike in spiritual pressure before the arm holding Orihime captive was cleanly sliced off. Nnoitra gave a pained wail and Orihime crumbled to the ground, sucking in large gulps of air, coughing and trembling. _

_Nnoitra whirled around, his smile gone and his glare murderous, screaming, "You bastard!" _

_Out of the shadows, Ulquiorra stepped forward, his expression blank. He spared his inferior a brief glance before he was in front of Orihime in a blink of an eye, gazing down at her. She felt the maddening beat of her heart in her ears as fear came back to her. She wondered if he could hear it too. _

_Ulquiorra grasped her arm, easily pulled her up and started in the direction of her bedroom, dragging her along and pointedly ignoring the fading howls of Nnoitra as they slowly trekked down the never-ending passageway. All the while, Orihime made no attempt to struggle or openly object. His grip was uncomfortable. But compared to Nnoitra's, it was bearable. _

_Her bedroom door was still open by the time they reached it. Ulquiorra brought her inside before he unceremoniously shoved her toward the bed. Orihime tripped with a stifled squeal, landing on her bottom and staring up at her captor, expecting the worst. Distantly, she wished she had never even entertained the thought of exploring Las Noches because she was surely going to pay for it right now. _

_Orihime closed her eyes, anticipating pain at any moment. Instead, she heard the rustle of cloth, the unmistakable crowding of body heat and felt fingers on her neck. She opened her eyes only to find Ulquiorra too close, staring. _

_He didn't bother to ask for her permission before he titled her chin back with his hands—gentle, soft hands—and exposed enough of her neck to his liking. Lazily, his fingertips skimmed the length of her neck, tenderly touching the ugly, purple welts marring the flesh there. Orihime laced her fingers together, suddenly becoming too aware of her surroundings and every detail. _

_Ulquiorra fingers were hot, almost feverishly so. It was a thought she never would have considered until now because he always reminded her of ice, of something sharp, cutting and unyielding. But now…_

_He exhaled and his breath wafted over her skin like a warm breeze, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Orihime tried to focus her attention on something else but knew she had failed when she felt the telltale trickles of heat streaming across her cheeks. She attempted to keep the reaction in check but Ulquiorra's thumb, at that very instant, stroked the underside of her chin and suddenly, a full crimson tide crashed over her face, staining everything in its path a bright, rosy red. _

_Ulquiorra finally removed his fingers and Orihime lowered her head, leveling her gaze with his. __The silence between them was smothering. She could feel it pressing down on her lungs, suffocating her, choking her. His very presence was worst than all the quiet of Las Noches. And Ulquiorra did nothing but diligently stare, no emotion, no nothing. He had to have noticed her flustered appearance by now. _

_All Orihime wanted was for Ulquiorra to do __**something**__, insult her like he would to many others, glare disdainfully at her like he did to those he considered beneath him, fasten his hand around her neck and put an end to the guilt and shame and doubt that had consumed her for as long as she had been doomed to remain here. _

_As if reading her thoughts, Ulquiorra rose to his full height and said, "Aizen-sama has commanded no harm should come to you. I doubt you will wander Las Noches alone in the future." _

_He turned to leave and for the first time, Orihime felt inexplicable anger swell inside her. Ulquiorra was the only one she could lash out at. "I hate you," she murmured. She licked her lips, tasted the salt from her tears and hated herself for it. "I want to go home." __It was such a stupid, childish thing to say. But Orihime would have given anything to be with her friends, in Karakura, without a care in the world. She wasn't strong enough for this. She never was. _

_Ulquiorra stopped in mid-step and turned slightly. Orihime glimpsed a sliver of a green eye. "Don't be foolish," he replied frigidly, "you are home." _

_After his departure, in the darkness of her bedroom, Orihime cried for what seemed like days._

________

It was a slow, warm afternoon.

Orihime sat rigid at her desk, gaze fixed on the teacher as he lectured to the class. But her thoughts were elsewhere. Every so often, her head would droop forward or back, her eyes half-lidded as she waged a losing war against sleep. When Orihime did lose consciousness, after a moment, a great spasm would pulse through her frame and jolt her body awake.

It would be an understatement to say she was exhausted. For the past few weeks, she had spent her days and nights outside of school catching up on all the homework she had missed since she had left for Hueco Mundo. The work wasn't necessarily difficult, just the quantity had been daunting and Orihime had no desire to take summer school. That meant long nights and little sleep in order to catch up as quickly as she could. But the high demand was taking its toll. Orihime had not felt this fatigued in quite some time. And it didn't help that the teacher's voice was pleasantly lulling and the air was sweet with the smell of spring.

A whisper came from nearby. "Orihime, wake up!"

She jerked; her eyes scanning the class before glancing to her left and meeting the gaze of a bewildered Tatsuki. Orihime smiled tiredly and turned her attention back to the professor as he began to discuss trigonometry and its properties and red bean paste with curry rice…

A soft breeze picked up, caressing the curve of her cheeks and fanning through her hair.

It wasn't long before Orihime felt the beginning pulls of sleep once more. She could still sense everything around her but her body was slowly growing heavier. It was as if she was happily sinking. She sighed contently. The wind felt nice against her neck. And those fingers stroking her were absolutely delicious.

Orihime started again, releasing a yelp of surprise. The usual silence in the class came to a deliberate halt. She could already feel the scrutinizing stares burning holes in her back. She noticed the teacher's pointed glare and laughed, embarrassed, and apologized profusely. The professor continued with the lesson and one by one, each student began to listen until Orihime was left alone with her thoughts. She tentatively touched her neck, shivering slightly. It had to have been her overactive imagination at work. But she could have sworn she felt something…someone touch her.

Orihime looked up, her eyes catching a movement in the corner of the room. She glanced in the direction, shock coursing through her as her attention came to rest on Ulquiorra. He was standing in the corner, gazing at her, acting as if he belonged there.

Orihime did not have time to fathom the enormity of the situation before she felt a terrible, abrupt pain seize her, a gut-wrenching sensation coursing through her being. It was like knives, hundreds upon thousands of knives hurting her, stabbing her, embedding themselves so deep into her flesh.

She could feel Tatsuki by her side, gripping her shoulder. "Orihime, what's the matter? Tell me what's wrong?" When she did not answer, she heard her friend shout, "Someone get the nurse! Hurry!"

Orihime wanted to scream but the choking sensation in her throat wasn't giving her a chance to breathe. She felt her vision blurring as her eyelids drooped, the picture of Ulquiorra blurring. Orihime struggled to stay conscious but knew she was losing a vain fight. She whimpered as a savage throbbing in her head began, piercing and shrill.

With the last bit of her strength, Orihime got to her feet, ignoring the shouts of protest sounding around her at her efforts. She extended her hand toward Ulquiorra.

"Ul…"

Orihime collapsed before she could say anymore.

______

Sound came back first. A gentle, soothing hum was the only thing that could penetrate the fog that assailed her senses. She pushed herself onward, struggling against the sweet embrace of slumber until she finally felt herself return fully to awareness, gradually becoming more and more observant of her surroundings. She felt a hand steadying her against a soft material, something cold was pressed to her forehead, and then a voice.

Orihime opened her eyes and met orbs that were as dark and as deep as the ocean.

"Ishida-kun, hello," she greeted tiredly. She tried to sit up but he gently forced her back down, shaking his head. It was then Orihime realized she was back in her apartment. The curtains to her windows were slightly drawn, allowing the last bit of dying rays from the sun to filter in, making the dust particles floating in the air visible to the naked eye. She raised a hand to partially cover her eyes, effectively shielding herself from the blinding glare as she took in the sight of her home.

Her apartment was cast in an orange hue, a sign of dusk's arrival. Though it seemed she and Uryuu were the only ones there, her home looked a little more lived in than she remembered. There were tightly rolled futons in one corner and different colored slippers by the front door. Orihime heard the quiet tick-tock of her clock and glanced toward her kitchen, taking note of the several bags of groceries sitting on the counter top.

She turned back to Uryuu. She couldn't ignore the lines drawn in his expression, the worry in his gaze. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Four days," he replied.

"Four days?" she said, astonished. As Orihime's heart hammered erratically against her chest, her mind began to invoke scenarios in leaps and bounds. "What happened to me?"

"What do you remember?"

She thought hard. "I…we were in class. Math, I think. I was falling asleep because I was so tired. That's it."

Uryuu reached for her, removing the cold compress and clasping his palm against her forehead. He did the same to himself with his free hand. "Your fever's come down a little," he informed her. "But I think it would be best if we didn't take any chances."

"What happened to me?" Orihime asked again, terror creeping up inside her.

Sensing the panic in her voice, Uryuu allowed himself a smile, and though it did not help ease the dread in him, he hoped it would relax her. It did. He watched as the tension in her face slowly vanished to be replaced with curiosity.

"You must be hungry," he said. "Why don't I fix you dinner, and then I'll tell you everything."

Uryuu did not keep her waiting long. He returned to her futon with a tray balanced in his hands. He placed it in front of her and Orihime inspected her supper, only slightly disappointed when she noticed none of her favorite foods were there. It was a simple meal of rice, steamed vegetables, fish and miso soup.

"Don't worry," Uryuu said, smiling knowingly. "I have vanilla ice cream and red bean paste for you for desert."

Orihime beamed. "Really?" she laughed. "You know me too well, Ishida-kun."

"Maybe," he responded, handing her a pair of chopsticks.

As she ate, Orihime never realized how famished she was until the first morsel of food touched her tongue. She tried to savor each bite but ended up devouring her dinner more quickly than she had wanted. And as promised, Uryuu had desert waiting for her. Sweet, cold vanilla ice cream crowned with a hearty topping of red bean paste. Orihime felt her mouth water considerably.

She dipped her spoon into her frosty treat, making sure to get the perfect mix of vanilla and paste. Orihime raised it to her lips and cupped her mouth around the spoon, tasting the too-die-for delectable desert. It reminded her of the many times she had come home from school and spent her afternoons concocting different flavored ice creams. Cookie dough swirled with mashed fish sticks and fermented beans one day, and chocolate mochi ice cream dunked in soy sauce and sprinkled with curry powder the next.

Uryuu watched Orihime eat her ice cream, taking as much time as she could to enjoy each bite. Occasionally, a quiet moan of appreciation would come from her when she got a little extra red bean paste in each mouthful. He looked away from her eventually and busied himself with putting away the rest of the groceries.

A few minutes later, Orihime took her last taste and placed the spoon in the empty bowl. She sighed contently, her eyes briefly catching a glimpse of the crescent moon through the curtains before she fixed her gaze on Uryuu.

"Will you tell me what happened now?" she prompted.

He met her stare and started without preamble. "You collapsed in class. We all figured you were exhausted. But when you didn't wake up, we began to worry. We brought you home and that's when I noticed you had a fever. It seemed like there was nothing we could do to wake you. We took you to Kurosaki's father's clinic. He didn't have any answers. Most of the symptoms you were exhibiting where things he had never encountered before.

"We even took you to Urahara-san and he was just as clueless. So we brought you back here to wait it out. We've been going in shifts and making sure you're never alone, just in case you happened to gain consciousness." He gestured in the general direction of the extra futons. "We had no choice but to."

"We?" she questioned.

"Tatsuki-san, Sado-san, Kurosaki, Rukia-san and I," Uryuu clarified.

The first reaction Orihime felt was complete happiness. "You all did that for me?"

He looked comically offended. "Of course," Uryuu replied. His expression softened as he gently asked, "Why wouldn't we, Inoue-san? You're our friend."

Her vision of Uryuu blurred as her eyes began to well with tears. "You went through all that trouble," she answered, "just because I was silly enough to get sick." Orihime covered her face with her hands as she heard him near her, embarrassed by her rather emotional reaction.

Eventually, she looked up, expecting to see Uryuu's kind features but released a gasp of surprise when she came face to face with Ulquiorra. He stared down at her with those same cold, blank eyes. They bored into her, made Orihime feel as if he was looking at her very soul.

She should have expected the pain to seize her but she didn't. It came like a looming tidal wave, crashing upon her and stealing the very breath from her lungs in its enormity. Faintly, Orihime heard Uryuu call out to her. But by that time, dark, promising oblivion had already claimed her.

Hours later, Orihime awoke with a start, her body cold, weak and slick with sweat. She shuddered, felt a searing ache in her chest and took in a sharp breath. Before long the pain ceased but Orihime did not attempt to move too much. Instead, she kept herself occupied with studying her apartment. The living was cast in shadow, the only source of light coming from a curtain-drawn window.

Orihime heard a noise and glanced in the direction, seeing Uryuu slumped against a chair at the foot of her futon, his glasses askew and snoring softly. Watching him sleep, Orihime could feel immense guilt gathering inside of her. Though she was truly grateful to him and all her friends, she couldn't imagine how much of a burden she must have been. Uryuu deserved to be in his own home, his own bed, not waiting on her hand and foot and seeing to her every need.

Orihime struggled but was able to prop herself onto her elbows, sit up and then finally get to her feet. She remembered the pain but this time she was ready for it, inwardly commanding herself not to even whimper. She didn't want to wake Uryuu.

She stepped away from her futon and crossed the length of her living room, stopping at the open window overlooking Karakura. Orihime seated herself on the sill, carefully letting one leg dangle over the ledge as her other bared her weight to keep balance. Her eyes were watching the delicate play of the curtains as they rose and fell, billowing with each passing breeze that wafted through and kissed her flushed skin.

Orihime sighed. There was nothing more than herself and the quiet stillness. She cringed slightly as another painful spasm passed through her.

"What's happening to me?" she asked. She hoped for an answer but knew nothing would come. Orihime did not want to admit it, but she was keenly aware something was terribly wrong with her. She could not pinpoint it exactly, but whatever was happening was quickly overpowering her. It wouldn't be long before something occurred that she knew she was not the least bit prepared for.

After several minutes of gazing at the moon, Orihime was ready to return to her futon. She had just climbed off the windowsill when she glimpsed the sight of a shrouded outline only mere feet away from her. She stared at it, wanting to believe that maybe it was a figment of her imagination. However, when the figure moved, Orihime felt her heart begin to race. She spared a brief look at Uryuu. He was still sleeping soundly.

"Who's there?" she whispered. Her voice trembled. "Come out."

The figure took one step forward. In a moment of distraction, Orihime glanced down, seeing the hem of a white hakama. She felt her stomach flutter as she looked up, taking in the stranger's appearance as he was gradually bathed in moonlight. It had been many months since she had seen him last, but he looked the same: ashen skin, wild, dark mane, slender frame and deep emerald orbs.

Ulquiorra trained his gaze on Orihime as he came toward her, his steps purposefully slow and measured. Instinctively, she stepped back as he steadily advanced on her, her back eventually hitting a nearby wall. She audibly swallowed, recalled seeing him in her classroom and the pain that shortly followed after his appearance.

"You're dead," Orihime croaked. "You died."

Ulquiorra diminished the last bit of space between them, cocked his head to the side and eyed her with a vacant stare. "No longer living," he started, "doesn't necessarily mean death. You of all people should know that."

She took a moment to absorb his words, break them apart but to no avail. Orihime pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart was beating too fast and she felt the first hints of some emotion she couldn't name claw at her. Though Ulquiorra had done absolutely nothing to illicit this reaction from her, she realized it was his very presence, his eyes, his ominous air that truly did her in. The perfect form of intimidation and she had easily fallen prey to in the past. She was almost falling victim to it now.

Regardless of what she felt at the moment, Orihime did not dare break Ulquiorra's stare. She couldn't. She was inexplicably drawn to it, like a hapless moth to a blazing flame. The way his eyes peeked at her through his dark bangs, how they gleamed so brilliantly in the moonlight, the way his gaze kindled something deep inside her, a sensation she had not experienced since the moment he had dissolved to ashes before her very eyes.

"Then what are you?" Orihime demanded. She balled her hands into fists. "What are you doing here?"

Ulquiorra raised a brow. "Why, you don't know?" he questioned. But he didn't bother to elaborate. He was close now, cornering her completely. He still felt just as warm as she remembered.

"I do," Ulquiorra said.

Her wayward thoughts were cut short. Orihime gave him a bewildered look. "Huh?" she inquired. "You do what? I don't understand."

Something flickered in his eyes but was gone before she could decipher it. And just as quickly as he had descended upon her, Ulquiorra withdrew, keeping himself a fair distance away from her. His features were neutral but somehow Orihime knew he was deliberating, considering, wondering. Then he turned and started for the depthless shadows of her apartment.

Instinctively, Orihime reached for him. "Ulquiorra, wait," she called. "Come back."

An overhead light swept the room in brightness. Ulquiorra was nowhere in sight.

Uryuu was standing by the front door, his fingers on the light switch with a very perplexed look on his face. "Inoue-san," he started uncertainly. "Who are you talking to? Is there someone here?"

Orihime met his gaze. She had no idea what to say.

______

_Orihime remembered a time she when felt something for Ichigo. Not the blushing, stuttering and shaking in the knees love she harbored for him. She meant empathy, anguish, fear, and the very strong need to protect him from the horrors of the world. And it was in that instant, Orihime finally saw __**him**__, not just this substitute shinigami with a destructive reiastu, but a boy, forced to bear burdens on shoulders so young. If there was a chance he could not consider her a potential lover, then, at the very least, she wanted him to acknowledge her as his dependable comrade, as one of his few allies. _

_The realization struck hardest during Ichigo's battle with Ulquiorra, in dark, dark Hueco Mundo, on top of the highest towers of Las Noches, with one comrade severely injured and the other with a bloodlust that could rival an animal's._

_Orihime would never forget the way Ichigo had stared down at her. He was a being like none other she had ever seen, a contorted form from which she could not tell where the hollow ended and the human began. She stared into his eyes, hoping to find some remnant of the boy she adored so much. All that greeted her was an emotionless stare in return. _

_Ichigo was relentless. She stood and watched as he finished Ulquiorra, struck him down and tore his arm away as if it were paper. The power and strength he had now was far greater than what Ulquiorra had in his most formidable form._

_If this battle had taken place months ago, at the very beginning, Orihime didn't think she would have cared. She wouldn't have thought twice about this moment because there was a time her hatred for Ulquiorra was only second to Aizen. _

_But now… there was nothing Orihime could do. _

_All she felt was stabbing, unrelenting guilt. If she hadn't begged for Ichigo's help, he wouldn't have turned into that monster, merely a creature without thought or reason. This thing was not the man she loved because Ichigo would never kill if he could help it. All Orihime had wanted was his protection but she had never, ever wanted this. _

_Ulquiorra glanced at her, and she watched as his solid form disintegrated to ash. "Do you fear me, woman?" His hand was extended toward her, waiting. _

_Her eyebrows came together, her expression crumbling into one of remorse. "I'm not scared," Orihime replied firmly. She returned the gesture but her fingers only curled around air. _

_Ulquiorra's eyes never strayed from hers, even when there was almost nothing left of him. "I see." _

Days came and went, but Orihime's condition never improved. She was bedridden most of the time, forced to always be in the company of someone, her every need met with the utmost attention. There were more trips to more doctors than Orihime ever cared to remember, all with the same results. No one knew what was wrong with her, no one knew if she would ever be healthy again, and these days, after weeks in a cramped apartment, Orihime wanted nothing more than to feel the wind in her hair and the prickling of grass between her toes.

"Don't worry," Uryuu reassured her one day. "As soon as Ryuuken is in town, you're the first person he's going to see, and everything will be all right."

Even if she tried, Orihime couldn't make herself think more optimistically. Her mind was a raging torrent, focused always on the worst outcomes.

Her friends worked in shifts, a new caretaker for everyday of the week with all day assistance on the weekends. They made organized schedules, even held meetings if necessary; just to accommodate each other's limited time. Uryuu was on Fridays and Sundays, Tatsuki on Mondays and Wednesdays, Sado on Thursdays, Rukia on Saturdays, and Ichigo on Tuesdays. From time to time, Renji would come in Rukia's place if there was a meeting or a mission from Seireitei she couldn't avoid.

"I would come more often," Renji had told her on a particularly sunny Saturday, "but the paperwork and the missions and Kuchiki-taichou—"

"It doesn't matter," Orihime had interjected. "You're here now. That's all I care about."

On the very rare occasion a day in the week couldn't be covered, Isshin, of all people, became her caretaker. And though they were few and far between, Orihime adored his visits. He always made her smile, made her laugh and giggle and double over until her sides hurt.

There were some days Orihime felt fantastic and energetic, like her old self. But most days, she was exhausted, the crippling pain always persistent company in her sleeping and awaking hours. And as the days progressed, it seemed the off days began to significantly outnumber the better ones, and before long, Orihime simply forgot what if felt like not to be sick.

One Tuesday afternoon, Orihime, after a fretful nap, vomited bile and blood all over her futon. Ichigo did the best he could, soothed her the best way he knew how, even held her in a way she only envisioned in her dreams. But she still retched and retched for hours and couldn't understand why. The enormity of her illness was finally bearing down on her. It was the first time she had ever felt truly terrified about what was happening to her.

It was also the last time she saw Ichigo for several weeks.

Naturally, her friends carried on as if nothing had ever happened. Orihime started seeing Rukia on Tuesdays and Saturdays. They stealthily distracted her with schoolwork and stories and red bean paste. She knew they would never tell her, even if she asked. But Orihime didn't have to wait too long to find out. She got her answer on a dreary Tuesday night.

Orihime awoke to the sounds of shouting. She knew those voices belonged to Rukia and Ichigo and by sheer force of will; she was able to turn her head in their direction. They were standing in the kitchen, an elbow and arm of each person pressed together while they used their physical force to push the other away. They were holding a staring contest to boot, with heated gazes that could ignite electricity between them.

"I'm tired of your childishness," Rukia started. "You will come back and visit Inoue."

"You can't tell me what to do," Ichigo protested.

"I shouldn't have to!" she barked, furious. "Our friend is very sick and it only seems natural to me that we should take care of her! Why are you being like this?"

"It's none of your business, Rukia! I can do whatever the hell I want!" Ichigo felt a rush of satisfaction as her eyes filled with astonishment and quickly added, "Yeah, that's right. I said it!"

Rukia aimed her attention at the floor, drawing a deep, patient breath and somehow making Ichigo feel as if he were nothing more than a mere child about to be scolded by his mother. He felt his ire grow the longer she continued to gaze anywhere else but at him. After a long moment, she finally responded.

"You're absolutely right."

"I am," Ichigo agreed, though he couldn't conceal the question in his tone.

"You are."

Ichigo crossed his arms. "Well, then. Fine."

"Fine," she repeated.

Rukia turned on her heel, appearing as if she was heading for the living room. But quicker than Ichigo suspected, she turned around, took a menacing step forward, and then launched herself at him. Ichigo only caught the swift movement of her balled hand before he felt a solid punch connect with his face. He crumbled to the floor like a felled tree, time crawling to a sluggish pace as he attempted to digest what had just occurred. Rukia had _punched_ him, and it was _not_ one of her regular whacks on the head. She had meant for it to hurt. Naturally, his own rage came crashing down upon him seconds later.

Ichigo quickly sat up; baring teeth in a nasty scowl as he tentatively touched his wounded cheek. "You shouldn't have done that," he muttered in warning.

Rukia dared to challenge him with an arrogant smirk. "Oh, really? And why's that, Ichigo? You're not injured." She cracked her knuckles. "At least not yet you are."

Then Rukia pounced. They tumbled to the floor in a heap of tangled limps. Ichigo struggled to keep Rukia beneath him but somehow, she managed to easily wiggle away from him. His cheek smashed against the floor as Rukia pinned her knee on his spine, pressing all her weight against him. She had a hold on his left arm, pulled it from behind at such angle that Ichigo whimpered in pain.

Orihime, who was now seated on the couch, continued to watch as they argued back and forth, Ichigo's eyes narrowing with each pound of anger weighing down on him from Rukia's insults.

"Now, I'm going to ask you again, and you're going to answer me. Why are you doing this?" When Ichigo did not reply quickly enough, Rukia yanked at his arm and he yelped.

"It's complicated," Ichigo finally mumbled, indignant.

"Complicated?" she repeated. "There's nothing complicated about this! Your place is here!" Rukia scowled and Ichigo felt his mouth grow dry when he caught a glimpse of the wrath in her eyes. "Inoue won't say it but I know she thinks about you all the time, worrying herself when she shouldn't have to. And over someone who's being an idiot no less!"

Rukia pulled at his arm again and Ichigo could have sworn he heard something crack. "Let me go!"

"Not until I beat some sense into you!" She dug her knee in further and tugged on his arm for extra measure.

Ichigo yelled and then suddenly exclaimed, "She talks to herself, Rukia!" His expression quickly became one of guilt as he realized what he had just said.

"Is that your big secret?" Rukia scrutinized him. "What's wrong with that? Everyone talks to themselves."

Ichigo delayed his response, hoping Orihime was not awake to hear what he was about to reveal. "No, this is different. I'm talking about full on conversations with herself, especially when Inoue believes no one is around. At first, I didn't think anything of it. Like you said, everyone talks to themselves once in a while. But…but then…she said…she said—"

"She said what?" Rukia demanded.

"Ulquiorra," Ichigo finished feebly. "Inoue said his name. I thought I was hearing things. So just to make sure, three weeks ago, I watched her. She was looking toward the window, but no one was there. We were the only two in the apartment. She was acting as if he was standing right there." He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "I was thinking…maybe…whatever's happening to Inoue, what if it's affecting her mind, her mental state.

"He kidnapped her, and she was in Hueco Mundo for so long, all alone, with _him._" Ichigo's expression became grim; his eyes starting to awaken with newly sparked anger. "Who knows what could have happened then, what he did to her. We never talk about it. Ever. What if—?"

"It doesn't matter," Rukia cut in dismissively. She let go of Ichigo's arm as she stood up, taking her weight off his back.

Ichigo got to his feet and looked at her, cradling his bruised limb. "What do you mean it doesn't matter? Rukia, this could be the very thing—"

"There's nothing we can do to change what happened in the past. We've gone to every doctor in Karakura, even to Urahara and Unohana-taicho, and they've all said the same thing. We don't know what's happening to Inoue. We may never know but that's not the point. She needs us. That's all that matters to me, just like it should to you."

"It does matter to me," he defended with an edge in his tone. "She's my friend too. I'm just as worried as anyone else."

"Then show it," she challenged. "Prove it."

For a long stretch of time, the pair stared each other down before Ichigo scoffed, turned away from Rukia and stalked out of the kitchen. "I knew I shouldn't have come here," he said. "I—" He faltered when he realized the center of their conversation was wide awake and looking at him.

Orihime held his gaze. "Did I do something wrong?" she inquired weakly. "If there is, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drive you away. Please…don't leave, Kurosaki-kun. At least stay for the afternoon." Because I need you, I miss you, I love you. Those were the things Orihime really wanted to say but wasn't brave enough to.

Gingerly, he came to kneel beside her. "Inoue, it's not you. There's no need for you to apologize. I just…" But Ichigo trailed off, looked away from her regretfully and started for the front door without a backward glance.

As the door slammed, Rukia shouted a string of colorful language loud enough for the neighbors to hear. She returned to the kitchen, muttering, "Ichigo, you stupid fool."

Orihime sighed and returned to the comfort of her futon. She only wished Ichigo's lack of presence was the worst of all her troubles. Her biggest concern was leaning against the arm of the couch.

"You silly humans," Ulquiorra said, "are such strange, interesting beings."

"And here I thought you were starting to like us silly humans," Orihime quipped.

He leveled her with a blank stare. "You shouldn't assume such things, especially if they're not true."

She gave him a critical look. "Is it not true?" she questioned.

"Did you say something?" Rukia yelled from the kitchen.

Orihime smiled at the absurdity of the situation, glanced back at Ulquiorra and was not surprised to see him gone. "No," she called back. "I didn't say anything."

Her life continued like this. The more sick Orihime became, the more Ulquiorra came to visit, never straying, a constant, lurking shadow. There was never a specific schedule he followed. He came and went as he pleased but he especially thrived during the night. That was the only time Orihime would truly acknowledge his presence. In the cover of darkness, he would stay with her until the very break of dawn.

Not to mention, Ulquiorra asked her a lot questions.

Sometimes he was very serious.

"In the end, Aizen-sama never cared if his subordinates lived or died, just as long as it benefited him in some manner. Wouldn't you agree?"

Other times he was very curious.

"Why do you enjoy this red bean paste so much? And why is ice cream cold?"

Most of the time, he was just downright crass, never giving a single thought to tactfulness. Orihime was certain Ulquiorra wouldn't have it any other way.

"Are you honestly that foolish? Why do you idolize Kurosaki Ichigo so much when he clearly values another over you?"

Even still, Orihime could see the positives in her dilemma. Having someone to talk to, someone only she could see and hear was somehow a morbid comfort to her. But at the same time, it was a burden that consumed her completely with apprehension. She didn't want her friends to think she was losing her mind, even though she already knew she was. Orihime had considered many options that only led her to dead ends. Insanity had to be the cause. She had no other explanation as to why a very dead Arrancar was haunting her.

It wasn't until weeks later Orihime had a moment to herself. She was in the bathroom, leaning heavily against the sink and washing her face. When she glanced up, she caught a glimpse of Ulquiorra standing behind her, watching her in the reflection of the mirror. For a moment, her gaze lingered on her appearance. Her complexion was pale and her face had thinned considerably.

"You, again," Orihime greeted as she reached for a towel.

"Were you expecting someone else?" Ulquiorra sounded genuinely interested. Yet suddenly, his voice took on a nastily mocking, teasing air. "Kurosaki Ichigo, perhaps?"

Orihime's grip on the rim of the sink tightened but she ignored the bait. Still, there was a moment of weakness on her part, regardless of its brevity. She had to remind herself that she was no longer in Hueco Mundo and locked away in Las Noches. She was in Karakura Town, in her apartment, in her bathroom and all alone. Well, almost alone.

"What's happening to me?" she asked.

"You don't know already?" Ulquiorra responded.

"I wouldn't be asking if I did," Orihime snapped irritably. "What's happening to me?" she demanded. "Why are you here? Why don't you just go away?"

"Woman, do honestly think I have the answers?" Ulquiorra bit out coldly.

"Then who else am I supposed to ask?" She was yelling now, glaring hard at Ulquiorra's reflection. "All of a sudden I get sick and you're always here! I don't understand! No one else can see you or hear you except for me. Do you know how that makes me look? They all probably think that I've lost my mind!"

For a length, a tense silence fell between them. Then Ulquiorra spoke up. "Do you think you've lost your mind?" he asked. "Do you think that I'm nothing more than a figment of your imagination?"

Orihime knew her imagination worked differently from everyone else's, that she could conjure the most outlandish scenarios and be perfectly content with them. But this was beyond the realm of reason. It was absolutely ridiculous.

She eventually turned to face him, replying, "Yes."

The former Espada hummed low in his throat, cast an appraising look at Orihime and then approached her. She noticeably stiffened but he was already too close too fast. For several moments he did nothing, and it wasn't long before Orihime began to fidget.

"Why do you always do that?" she whispered, hating how her voice quivered. "You never used to do that to me."

His gaze betrayed nothing. "Do what?"

"Invade my personal space," Orihime clarified, miffed. "It's disturbing."

It was quick, and Orihime would have missed it if she hadn't been listening but briefly, Ulquiorra's tone became one of amusement. "You find me invading your personal space more disturbing than you having extended conversations with yourself?"

Orihime flushed, opened her mouth to deliver a sharp retort but Ulquiorra beat her to it.

"Touch me," he commanded softly.

Orihime's eyes widened in confusion and surprise as her face became a glowing pink. "E-Excuse me?" she stuttered hotly.

Ulquiorra repeated himself. "Touch me. See for yourself."

Orihime hesitated, and then blurted out, "I can't."

"Why?"

"I…" She trailed off as her uncertainty mounted. If she really did this, what would it confirm? That maybe her imagination was more tangible than she realized? That she was losing her grip on reality quicker than she liked? How would this prove anything?

"Stop thinking about it," Ulquiorra said, the beginnings of exasperation laced in his words. His hands were on either side of the sink, blocking Orihime from escape. "What do you have to lose?"

"Besides my sanity, not much," she responded seriously.

Orihime's hand hovered over his shoulder. She could feel heat radiating off of his frame in waves. Finally, she folded her fingers around Ulquiorra's shoulder and released a little gasp at the sensation of a solid body beneath her fingertips. Slowly, Orihime's palm followed the line of his collar bone through the material of his jacket, pausing at the base of his neck. Her knuckles brushed against the messy strands of his inky black hair, the few wisps that tickled her skin felt surprisingly soft. She locked her gaze with his, and for a second, her eyes focused on the teal lines streaming down his face. They were almost like tears. Her fingers itched to touch them.

"I'm real," Ulquiorra said at last. He carefully watched and weighed her reaction. "The only person that needs to see or hear me is you."

A wave of boldness overtook her and Orihime gave into the temptation. She began to trace her thumbs against the delicate markings on his face. Up and down and down and up. Orihime opened her mouth slightly, yearning to speak the truth but was held back by trepidation. Her stomach felt queasy, as if warning her against the subject she was about to broach. And Ulquiorra, he looked as impassive as ever, seemingly unaware of her dilemma.

Pushing past her apprehension, Orihime rubbed her thumb down the length of his neck. "I've always wanted to do this," she abruptly confessed in a whisper. "Touch you, that is."

Ulquiorra's eyes widened considerably, and for one blinding, crazy moment, Orihime felt a thrill of satisfaction shoot through her at his reaction. "Why didn't you?" he asked.

She scoffed. "And risk you cutting off my hands?" she joked amiably. "No, thank you."

"I wouldn't have done that," Ulquiorra defended matter-of-factly, "Aizen-sama—"

"Is dead," Orihime interrupted, her expression noticeably darkening at the mention of him. "He doesn't matter anymore."

Without waiting for Ulquiorra's reply, Orihime began a patternless rhythm, her fingers exploring, wandering and claiming every inch of revealed skin above the collar of his jacket. She never rushed and was never careless in her motions. Every stroke, every press of her skin to his was thoughtfully and purposefully given.

As she stared into his eyes, felt the warmth beneath her hands, all too soon, the familiar emotion of sadness settled deep in her. More times than she cared to remember, her thoughts, once again, drifted to the final moments, when he was alive and breathing and living, before he died seconds later.

"Why couldn't I save you?" Orihime had said it before she could stop herself, her immense curiosity overriding any embarrassment or misgivings she felt. She hadn't noticed that her hands had stilled. They were cupping Ulquiorra's face with the utmost care, as if she were afraid he would suddenly break under her touch.

From her peripheral, Orihime saw his fingers reaching for her, millimeters from her cheek. And for the first time in months, she felt lighter, giddy. Her heart was beating in a strange and offbeat pace, and her palms were sweating and trembling. She felt like she was falling and flying all at once.

Orihime could almost feel his palm skimming her face. "Because," Ulquiorra answered, deadpan, "there was nothing left to save. You—"

The bathroom door burst open. Tatsuki was standing at the threshold and though she tried to conceal it, Orihime could see the worry in eyes, hear it in her voice. "Are you all right? Is there someone…?"

"No," Orihime replied. She turned back to the sink and splashed her face with ice cold water. The rush of emotion she had briefly experienced seconds ago was long gone. Orihime felt like she had crashed right back into all her misery and pain.

______

Orihime craned her head, squinted her eyes, struggled to sit up, did just about anything to help her catch the quick, quiet words passing between Uryuu and Ryuuken. After weeks of waiting, the doctor had finally come back to Karakura and as promised, he came to visit her promptly.

Orihime had never seen Uryuu's father and couldn't help but gape when he, on an early Friday morning, burst through her front door as if he owned the place. Like his son, he was tall and gaunt, with pale skin and an ever present stoic expression.

Uryuu was every bit like his father, physically wise, except for the hair. Ryuuken's mane was the purest white she'd ever seen. It reminded Orihime of falling snow during winter, and the many commercials she had seen on television about perfect hair care.

When Ryuuken met her gaze, she was expecting to see the warm brightness she always spotted in Uryuu's. They were the same shade of blue but staring into them made Orihime think of something akin to ice: hard, sharp, stabbing, and quite capable of cutting her down to the bone with just a well-aimed glare.

"Are you done with your staring?" Ryuuken snapped coldly.

Orihime jumped, turned scarlet and averted her gaze elsewhere. "I'm sorry, Ishida-san. I—"

"Ryuuken," Uryuu interjected warningly from the couch, "don't be rude."

The older man snorted softly. "Maybe I wouldn't be if you didn't insist on calling me by my first name. And that tone of yours isn't really helping matters either."

Uryuu was ready with a comeback but Ryuuken turned his back on him and fixed his attention on Orihime. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

After her examination, both father and son had stepped outside, leaving the front door slightly ajar. Orihime had seen the opportunity. She listened as silently as possible but as not to rouse too much suspicion, turned on the television. At this point, if there was anyone who could help her, it was Ryuuken. Despite his brash attitude, she knew he was an exceptional doctor who would do the best he could. He would not lie to her and he would not make any false promises. For that, Orihime was grateful.

But her last bit of selfish hope was dashed when she heard Uryuu shout.

"What do you mean she's dying?!"

"While I was away, Kurosaki sent me her medical file," Ryuuken replied calmly. "His examination was thorough but I wanted to make sure he didn't miss anything. The evidence is all there but I don't know the cause. It's as if each internal organ in her body is slowly shutting down. It will only get worst from this point."

Uryuu was stunned into silence for a long time. When he finally found his voice, his anger escalated the volume of each word he said. "So…that's it? She's dying? That's all you have to say?" His fist pounded against the metal banister. "I thought you were the best doctor in Japan! I promised Inoue-san that you could help her!"

There was a pregnant pause before Ryuuken responded. "I can only provide her medicine to ease her suffering. Nothing else."

"I thought…I thought…I'm begging you." Uryuu's voice sounded desperate now. "Please, I don't know anyone else who can do this. You are my last hope for her. Please, help me. Help her."

When Ryuuken spoke, his voice no longer held its usual edge. It was almost soft. "Uryuu, if there was something I could do, I would. Your friend has no chance of surviving this. You should prepare yourself. I'm sorry."

Orihime heard retreating footsteps and knew Ryuuken had departed.

Uryuu slowly stepped back inside the apartment and closed the door behind him, lowering his gaze to meet Orihime's. She quickly shut her eyes, hoping he had not seen the expression there but knowing he already had. Orihime wanted to stop the tears from coming because crying wouldn't change anything. But they still managed to leak through and fall across the bridge of her nose and onto the pillow of her futon.

______

The signs were mounting.

Clumps of her hair were falling out, she was vomiting more blood than bile most days, and her complexion was now an ashen grey, her eyes sunken.

Since Ryuuken's visit, it was only a matter of time before the news of her condition finally reached the faculty and student body. For a solid week, Orihime had to endure long, drawn out visits from distant acquaintances to virtual strangers, the trepid hugs, the flowers, and the get well cards. Worst of all were the pitying looks. Orihime loathed them the most, had even noticed her friends casting her the same stares, and it was already enough they treated her like fragile glass most of the time.

Still, Orihime did not want her friends to know how poor her health actually was. She wanted to show them that she was perfectly fine.

It was the only reason why she made her suggestion.

"I think we should have dinner here Friday night," Orihime announced suddenly. "All of us. We could order pizza, sing karaoke, watch movies. It'll be fun."

It was a Monday and Orihime was in Tatsuki's care. Her best friend, lounging on the couch doing homework, glanced up. When her eyes locked with Orihime's, she felt guilt swell inside her. Orihime knew that, out of all her friends, she was breaking Tatsuki's heart the most. Naturally, she didn't reveal it, chose to put up a strong front instead of show how she really felt. But later tonight, like many other nights before, Orihime was sure she would feel Tatsuki reach for her hand, clutch it and quietly weep while Orihime politely pretended to be asleep.

You mean like a party?" Tatsuki inquired.

"Yes," Orihime smiled. She sat up in her futon, but not without extraneous effort. She inhaled deeply to placate her heavy breathing. "I think…it's something we all need. You know, to take our minds off of other things."

Tatsuki said nothing for a long time, so long that Orihime was having second thoughts by the time she replied. "I think it's a great idea." It was the first, real grin Orihime had seen from Tatsuki in weeks. She got to her feet, quickly grabbing a sheet of paper and pencil before she settled down beside Orihime. "Well, we should make a list for food to start off. Then…"

By the time Friday arrived, Orihime couldn't help but think the get-together was one of her worst ideas. Tatsuki, in a rare display of excitement, had gone over the top. She had taken care of all of the arrangements. More food and deserts than any of them could eat, decorations, a karaoke set, plenty of movies, and even more board games. Tatsuki had planned everything to perfection, and there was more laughter and jokes and mayhem than Orihime could have ever imagined. It would have been a perfect, except for one little obstacle.

The problem was her. Over the many weeks, she had steadily lost her appetite. Orihime tried to eat but could only manage a couple of nibbles of pizza before she gave up. They played charades yet when her turn came; it took mere minutes before she grew weak from exertion. Next was karaoke, and Orihime ended up vomiting blood on the microphone. She had suggested this party to make her friends happy, to distract them. But the only thing she caused was forcing them to focus on her ailing health because she wasn't strong enough to eat pizza or play games or sing a song. The awkward tension in the room had surfaced all because of her.

Regardless, they carried on, gathering at the kitchen table to tell stories about the school year. Orihime made sure to giggle at the right moments, groan and grumble over quickly approaching exams but her mind wasn't there. The divide between herself and her friends never seemed so wide. They tried to keep her in the loop as much as possible but it simply wasn't the same. It was as if they had all abandoned her and continued on with their lives, even as they sat right next to her.

Orihime stiffened when she felt Ulquiorra come to stand beside her. She should have expected it. Ulquiorra always faithfully arrived by her side when she felt she had reached the lowest point in her existence. Orihime was still trying to figure out if that was a good or bad thing.

"This," Ulquiorra made a gesture toward her friends, "is absolutely foolish." Orihime's expression remained calm and collected. Instead, she merely rested her chin against her palm and pointedly ignored Ulquiorra. He didn't seem bothered by her silence. He continued. "I've been watching these…festivities. They seem unnecessary. What are you celebrating? The real problem lies with you. You're in denial."

Orihime's hands curled into fists. Keigo made a joke and everyone laughed. She caught the end of it and smiled, though it was strained. Her actions did not go unnoticed by Ulquiorra. "Denial," he drawled softly, "how very cowardly of you." His eyes swept over the group of teenagers. "I suppose that is why Kurosaki Ichigo is not present. Perhaps he has the same problem of acceptance as you do."

Orihime felt a twinge of hurt at his statement but managed to smother it. Tatsuki had tried her best to reach out to Ichigo but he chose stay away. She hadn't seen him in months.

Ulquiorra was now slowly looming down on her. His whispers were barely perceptible over the ruckus of her friends but it was all Orihime could focus on. Every motion he made as he paced, every syllable he murmured in her ear seemed magnified as he silently steered her away from the brink of reality into surrealism. Everything around her felt muted and dulled and numbed, everything except for Ulquiorra. For Orihime, every time, it always felt this overwhelming when he descended upon her like this.

"Tell me, do you still think there is a cure?" he demanded. "Are you hoping for it? Wishing for it?" Ulquiorra scoffed. "There isn't. And your denial of your coming death is rather pathetic. I knew you had shortcomings but I never realized you could be so weak-minded, woman."

"Stop it," Orihime whispered. "You're wrong."

Ulquiorra paused for a length. "Am I?" he eventually murmured. "None of them really know how ill you are, do they? You intentionally hide the evidence from them, masquerading yourself as some kind of martyr, believing that you're helping them, protecting them from harm by denying them the truth. You sit here with your companions and pretend everything is all right, as if it's okay for them remain unaware. But you also think you're doing them a favor because, in the end, they'll be better off without you. Now, doesn't that sound familiar?"

"Stop," Orihime said again, her voice rising slightly, trembling. But she could feel the shame growing inside her. "Stop talking."

Ulquiorra was now facing her, leaning down. "If that is what you desire, then by all means, do as you wish. I don't care. However, your friends accepted your fate a long time ago. But you…you don't even have the strength to acknowledge it."

Orihime was up on her feet before she knew it, her resolve breaking as she savagely yelled, "Shut up, Ulquiorra! I said shut up!" It was then she realized she was not alone with Ulquiorra. Reality came back to her like a crushing blow. She was standing in her kitchen, surrounded by her friends and screaming at thin air.

The conversation had come to a deliberate pause, and Orihime could feel the shocked stares coming at her from all sides. Without a second thought, she bolted. Orihime heard Rukia calling for her as she slammed and locked the bathroom door behind her. She turned on the shower, felt the blast of hot water streaming on her palm, and hoped it would stifle the sound of her uncontrollable sobs.

Hours later, Rukia succeeded in picking the bathroom lock, her arms full of pillows and blankets. Orihime stared up at her, certain her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. Her hand was still flung over the edge of the bathtub, soaked and wrinkled. The water from the shower had grown ice cold long ago.

They stared at each other for a length before Rukia walked toward her, shut off the water, and went to work making a large makeshift bed on the floor. Once she was finished, Rukia settled between the sheets and looked at Orihime expectantly.

She followed suit without question, already feeling her eyes drifting closed as she laid her head on a pillow. But Orihime's mind jolted suddenly as she thought of something, startling herself awake.

"What about—?" she started.

"Sleep, Inoue," Rukia whispered. "Just sleep."

Rukia reached for her, stroked her hair tenderly, and it was very hard not to after that.

______

The following morning, Orihime found Rukia in the kitchen, unsuccessfully trying to make pancakes.

"Good morning, Inoue," Rukia greeted.

"Morning," Orihime returned faintly. "Where's Abarai-san? I thought he would be here because of your meeting."

"Luckily, it got cancelled," Rukia answered. "So I came back here." She flipped another hotcake as tiny bubbles began to erupt on the batter's surface. It was still burnt. "Sit down."

Orihime obeyed and for a fleeting second, she wanted to believe she had conjured up the events of last night in her head. But Rukia turned off the stove and pinned her with a look that banished away such hopes.

Orihime hesitated. "…Kuchiki-san—"

"When we all came back from Hueco Mundo, after the war was over, me, Ichigo, Sado, Ishida and Renji believed it was better if we didn't talk about it. We chose to think bottling it up and forgetting about it was the best option for all of us.

"But I realize now that that was a very selfish way of thinking, and that it was very stupid of us not to include you in that agreement. I know now not everyone prefers to keep everything to themselves. Sometimes, it's better to vent with some kind of outlet." Rukia frowned deeply, her features hard but her eyes managing to forage out some warmth to offer her. "Being in Las Noches for so long, all alone, it must have been difficult for you, Inoue."

Orihime's gaze was trained on her hands. "It was hard for all of us."

Rukia came to sit across from her. She studied her. "You know you can tell me."

"You wouldn't believe—"

"I would believe you. Don't ever doubt that. Just know that you can trust me."

Orihime leveled her stare with Rukia's. "May I have some pancakes?"

She was obviously startled by her unexpected question. "Sure," Rukia nodded, standing. "Anything you want."

As she prepared them both a plate, Orihime hoped Rukia would understand.

Later, she promised inwardly. There would be plenty of time for confessions later.

______

Several days after, Orihime found herself wide awake and unable to sleep. She watched the moon as it slowly progressed through the dark sky. In a moment of weakness, she thought of Ulquiorra, and as if beckoned, he came to her.

Orihime barely felt it, but there was a slight dip at the foot of her futon as he sat down, his gaze focused on the bright stars and his back to her. After what seemed like an eternity, he broke the silence.

"I meant everything I said," Ulquiorra started. "But my intention was never to anger you.

I…was merely attempting to prove a point."

"You made your point, and quite coldly," she replied. Orihime said it more harshly than she meant, but Ulquiorra seemed the least bit perturbed by her tone. She deliberately softened her voice. "But…you weren't wrong." At this, he glanced over his shoulder. "I am scared."

He was quiet for a long time, eventually asking, "Why fear death? It always comes, regardless of all other factors."

"The thought of it, I guess," Orihime clarified. "This world is all I know, all I want. And the realization that all I've cherished is slipping through my fingers frightens me." She shifted and curled in on herself. "Sometimes, I feel like I'm surrounded by glass," Orihime whispered. "I've been trapped in this apartment for months. I watch my friends come and go as they please, complain about the most trivial things, and I can't help but feel like I took everything in my life for granted.

"I've never felt this alone in all my life. Even living in solitude in Las Noches was nothing compared to this. This is something that can't be fixed or helped. I can't be saved from this. It's very terrifying to think about every single hour of every single day."

Orihime twisted away from him and touched her cheek against the cool side of her pillow. She waited for Ulquiorra to comment on something, ask her a question, do anything. But he remained very quiet and very still until she spoke once more.

"You're not very talkative tonight."

"I have nothing to say," he replied simply. "I have no experience with what you speak of."

"You mean…you've never felt lonely before?" she questioned. "Ever?"

He almost looked offended by the thought of it. "Loneliness is not of my kind, woman," Ulquiorra responded. "My sole existence was for Aizen-sama and nothing more."

"I don't believe you," Orihime admitted stubbornly. "You must feel lonely. Isn't that why you always come back here?"

Ulquiorra turned fully to look at her, his eyes considering. "Inoue Orihime," he murmured. It was deadpan and clipped. Yet hearing him say her name stirred something in her, almost like a faraway memory was finally beginning to surface just after being lost and beyond her reach for so long. "I'm here only because of you," Ulquiorra said.

Fatigue had finally gotten to her, and Orihime felt her eyelids lowering, caught between awareness and slumber. Her vision of him was coming in and out of focus. "You're here for me? What's that supposed to mean?"

When Ulquiorra spoke, he sounded faint and distant. "You would know the answer to that, if only you allowed yourself to remember."

Remember…remember what?

Orihime didn't know if she was dreaming or not. She was lost and drifting, floating in an endless abyss. What she did recall was the oppressive darkness of Hueco Mundo, the cold wind in her hair, and the terrible pain devouring her whole. She was staring downward, her eyes transfixed on the black ash laced so intricately with the white sand, twisting and coiling in the breeze.

She wanted to say something. It was on tip of her tongue. "Ulquiorra, stay…please stay."

Orihime never knew if he did or not. She was fast asleep within seconds.

______

Sado pointed to a picture. "I know that face. This is your brother," he said. "Sora, right?"

They were seated at the kitchen table, going through Orihime's vast collection of photo albums.

She grinned, "Yes." Her fingertip caressed the edges of the photograph. It was one of the few times she and her brother had spent time in each other's company. A happy, fun, carefree day at the beach. "He was a very hard working man, making sure there was enough money for our apartment and for my education."

"He must have been very kind and considerate."

"Very much," she gushed. "He would have given me the whole world if he could. I adored him." As she stared at the picture, Orihime began to feel her smile fade. Out of habit, she began to toy with her hairpins. "It's strange, really. I don't know why, but for the longest time, whenever I thought about death, I would associate it with my bother."

Sado stared at the photo once more. Sora had a mop of messy, brown hair, fatigue around the eyes but a smile that was just like Orihime's: bright and beaming and warm.

"That's not to be unexpected. I mean, I heard about how he became a Hollow…and when he attacked you…" But Sado trailed off and didn't bother to finish.

"That's not it," Orihime responded. "I think it's because he was my first experience with death. I was in junior high school at the time. We had gotten into a fight and I didn't bother to say anything to him when he left for work that morning, not even 'Have a nice day.'

"Later that afternoon, there was a car accident and by that evening, he had died at the Kurosaki clinic. Even back then, I knew all about life and death. But my brother made me realize death is always around us, lurking, waiting, that any one of us can be caught up in it." Orihime paused as she stroked Sora's cheek. "So when I thought of death and dying, I thought of him. But now…"

When she did not elaborate, Sado gently probed. "But now…?"

Orihime's smile was sad as she closed the photo album. "But now I don't anymore."

______

The scent of Ichigo's reiastu was unmistakable.

She awoke instantly, looked to her open window and he was there, climbing over the sill and past the parted curtains.

"…Kurosaki-kun?"

He pinned her with his gaze. "Hello, Inoue," he greeted her simply. "It's been a while."

She noticed he was still dressed in his school uniform, smiling in a way that reminded Orihime of a distant ache she had kept so close to her heart. Months had come and gone, everything about Ichigo had become a far-flung memory, forced into a box in the deepest, murkiest parts of her mind, locked away until now. Seeing him standing before her made Orihime keenly aware of much she had missed him.

She wanted to ask him so many things but kept herself from doing so. Orihime knew, at this point, it didn't really matter.

"Kurosaki-kun," Orihime started. "You could have just used the front door."

He gave a pointed look at a sleeping Tatsuki sprawled on the sofa. "And have Tatsuki catch me here? No, thanks. Besides, I'm used to coming and going through windows."

Seeing that her eyes had traveled elsewhere, Ichigo followed her gaze. He pulled at the collar of his shirt. "The school term just ended but I haven't been home all day," he explained. "I've just been…around."

Orihime merely nodded, not really knowing what to say to that. When Ichigo said nothing further, Orihime asked, "What are you doing here, Kurosaki-kun?"

"I…was in the neighborhood. I thought…maybe…"

"You thought…?"

Ichigo seemed to have come to a decision as he approached her. He offered his hand. "Would you like to go for a walk with me?"

Distracted, Orihime studied his hand. There was a scar she had never seen before covering the length of his palm. She wondered how he had gotten it, if maybe a defeated enemy had given it to him. After a moment of uncertainty, she took it, saying, "A walk would be nice."

They made it to the final landing on the stairwell leading outside before Orihime could no longer hide her shortness of breath. Without a word and to her surprise, Ichigo effortlessly scooped her up and into his arms. They started off, slowly trekking down the quiet, deserted street, listening to the gentle hum of cicadas in the distance.

"So…where do you want to go first?"

Orihime gave Ichigo a bemused look. "What do you mean? I thought we were just walking."

He smiled. "Well, since we're wandering, I thought we could stop by a place or two." His grin widened. "Anything you want, Inoue. I'm all yours for the night."

Despite herself, Orihime flushed slightly but managed to duck her head low before Ichigo spotted her reaction. His declaration had only provoked more questions she wanted answered, but Orihime decided to wait until the moment was right.

"There's a twenty-four hour doughnut shop nearby," she offered. "Why don't we go there?"

"Sounds like a plan."

As they entered the doughnut shop, Orihime inhaled deeply, sighing greatly as the delicious aroma of sweet dough and fresh ground coffee assailed her. The place looked exactly the same: little black tables, black stools, lovely painted walls in vibrant colors and more doughnuts than the eye could see.

The longer Orihime stared, the more recollections came to her. Everyday after school she made a point of stopping in to get an afternoon snack. As far as she was concerned, there was no contest. This was the best doughnut shop in all of Karakura Town. Not only were their desserts delicious but this was the only place willing to create Orihime's peculiar custom orders.

The shopkeeper, who stood behind the counter, stared at Orihime. "Inoue-san, is that you? It's been so long!"

It was then Orihime realized she was still in Ichigo's arms. She could imagine how much of a comical picture they made: barging into a empty doughnut shop at nearly two in the morning. Ichigo, who was probably having the same thoughts as well, loudly cleared his throat before carefully setting Orihime down.

She approached the counter, beaming. "Hello, Tanaka-san. How are you?"

The older man smiled. "Better. I was beginning to wonder if I had lost you to one of my competitors."

"You would never lose me! I'm a loyal customer."

"That's good to hear. Should I get you the usual?"

"Yes, please."

"What about your boyfriend?" Tanaka inquired.

Orihime stammered, "Tanaka-san, h-he's—"

"I'll have the same thing she's having," Ichigo interjected. He reached into his pocket, fished out a thick roll of bills and placed them on the counter. "Actually, double that order."

"Coming right up!" the shopkeeper announced.

Orihime gave Ichigo a worried look. "You don't have to do that, Kurosaki-kun. It's very nice and thoughtful of you but—"

"Don't worry about it, Inoue. It's my treat."

Despite his reassurances, his words still did not alleviate her unease. When Ichigo had come to her apartment, Orihime had had an inkling of an idea of how this night would possibly turn out. But even still, she had hoped it would be otherwise. She didn't want Ichigo spending time with her because he pitied her or because he felt obligated. That was the last thing she needed, especially from him. She was about to voice her thoughts when Tanaka set two large boxes of doughnuts and two steaming cups of tea in front of her.

"Keep the change, sir," Ichigo said, grabbing the boxes. "Inoue, we should get going."

Orihime carefully picked up the cups of tea, bowed to Tanaka, and quickly fell into step with Ichigo as they departed. Just as the door closed behind them, Orihime heard the shopkeeper holler for her to come back again. She only hoped she could.

They didn't travel far, settling down on one of the many benches along a path that led to a local neighborhood park. The full moon had reached its highest peak that night. Orihime could see its gleaming light filtering through the patchy covering of a large cherry blossom tree they were sheltered under. But in the horizon, Orihime caught sight of rolling clouds, heard the faint rumble of thunder and smelt the distinct scent of water in the air.

"Let's see what we have here," Ichigo started as he opened a box. He laughed. "I should have known. Doughnuts with red bean paste frosting drizzled with chocolate syrup."

"I should have said something earlier. That's what I usually get. Most people don't like it," Orihime said, feeling slightly embarrassed. "You don't have to eat it."

But Ichigo was already munching away, half the doughnut gone with one hearty bite. He swallowed, his expression thoughtful. "You know…it's not bad." He took a sip of his tea. "And with this drink, it's even better. What is this? Green tea?"

"Vanilla and peach flavored green tea," Orihime clarified, smiling. "You really like it?"

In response, Ichigo finished off his first doughnut and started on another. "It's good." He handed her the box. "Eat! I can't finish these on my own."

Orihime did as she was told and for a while they sat in companionable silence, enjoying the quiet of the night and each other's company. However, the deafening clap of thunder sounded around them. Orihime paused, taking a moment to let her eyes focus on the dreary sky above her. Thick, dark storm clouds swirled and came together, white light flashed sporadically as heavy drops of water, carried by chilly wind, streamed down her face despite the protection of the tree.

Orihime shivered violently. "Maybe we should go back," she suggested. "Before—" She cut herself off with a squeal. No sooner had she spoken, another crash of thunder erupted and the heavy downpour of rain came.

To her astonishment, Ichigo chuckled. "A little rain never hurt anyone, Inoue," he said, slouching on the bench, acting as if he did that sort of thing everyday.

"A little?" Orihime repeated. She held up her arms and gestured to their clothing. "We're getting soaked." She spared a glance at the soggy boxes. "Oh no, our doughnuts are ruined!"

"Then it's an even better excuse to do this." Ichigo got to his feet and Orihime gawked as he, grinning like an idiot, kicked his foot into a newly formed puddle, sending an arc of water splashing on the already soaked pavement. Ichigo looked at her over his shoulder. "Come on, Inoue!"

"But it's raining," she said, unable to help but smile uncertainly at his enthusiasm.

"That's the fun of it." Ichigo was advancing on her, his smile now a smirk with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before Orihime knew what was happening, he had grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him, away from her scanty awning and into the pouring rain.

Ichigo gestured toward the puddle. "Go ahead. Have at it." Orihime stomped her foot in the pool of water but her heart was not in it. Her foot only caused a slight ripple. "You can do better than that," Ichigo goaded. "You have to do it like you mean it!"

Orihime tried again, shrieking happily as a wave of water splashed onto her. "How was that?"

Ichigo joined her, sweeping his leg out and spraying her with water again. "Perfect, Inoue." He grasped her fingers and brought her closer to him. "Don't even think about it," Ichigo encouraged. "Just let go."

And for the first time in a long time, Orihime felt herself finally disregard everything else. Buzzing with excitement as adrenaline coursed through her, she gave into Ichigo's antics, laughing uncontrollably as they, hand in hand, twirled about in the heavy downpour. She hadn't felt this free in months.

Even with his orange hair plastered to his forehead and rivulets of water trickled down his face, Ichigo, to her, had never looked more handsome or more endearing than he did at that moment.

After several minutes, they stopped spinning, both breathing hard and smiling brightly. Orihime looked at their entwined hands. Nothing had seemed so perfect. She almost wanted this time with Ichigo to last forever. But deep down, she knew it couldn't. As she gazed at their clasped fingers, unbidden, Orihime could feel her thoughts flinging her unceremoniously into the past.

"I lied to Kurosaki Ichigo," Ulquiorra confessed suddenly.

It was a Monday and Orihime had been ignoring him, hoping they would not rouse a snoozing Tatsuki. But at his admission, she met his gaze, startled. "Lied? Lied about what?"

Ulquiorra was leaning against a wall in a far corner, his face almost completely shrouded in shadow. "I told him Kuchiki Rukia was dead," he said eventually. "When, in fact, she was alive, but barely."

Orihime vividly remembered how she had pounded on the door, screamed for anyone to let her out of her bedroom. The sadness and guilt and anger she had felt in that moment was unbearable. Rukia's reiastu had been rapidly fading, there was nothing she could do, helpless and useless and hopeless. In that instant, she wanted more than anything to be by Rukia's side. It was all her fault Rukia had risked her life. It was her fault she was dying.

Orihime managed to untangle her hands from Tatsuki's as she got to her feet, nearing Ulquiorra. "Why?" she asked. "What were you trying to do?"

"To see how he would react. To provoke him, I suppose," Ulquiorra replied. "However, what he did was unexpected: Kurosaki Ichigo walked away. He said he wanted to save Kuchiki Rukia." She caught the slight tilt in his head and in her mind; she could picture his brow quirking in question. "Don't you find that interesting?" he queried, almost innocently.

Orihime felt her pulse flutter in reaction, but she was able to keep her voice steady. "What's so interesting about that? It was only natural Kurosaki-kun wanted to save a fallen comrade."

Ulquiorra stepped forward, the darkness surrounding him falling away slowly but leaving his eyes shielded from sight. "Natural?" he repeated lightly. "Is that what you truly believe?"

Orihime faltered for only a second before she answered. "Yes."

Ulquiorra was suddenly upon her, his gaze boring into hers with an intensity that quietly shocked her. But Orihime refused to let her surprise reflect in her expression, schooling her features to deliberate neutrality. She never let her eyes stray from his.

"Don't play stupid," Ulquiorra murmured. "Before Kuchiki Rukia was severely injured, another comrade in your group had already fallen victim to an Arrancar. I'm certain you recall that. Kurosaki Ichigo did not retreat to go save him. In fact, he still pursued you.

"But when he was presented with the possibility that Kuchiki Rukia had met her demise, even without a definite confirmation, he was more than readily prepared to go to her aid and leave you, without a second thought, without further consideration. Do you…still find it natural?"

"Ulquiorra, enough," Orihime demanded. "How could I even think to be that selfish? I wasn't in imminent danger, Kuchiki-san was. I…I didn't even want Kurosaki-kun to come save me. I had decided to come to Hueco Mundo on my own to help him."

She turned her back on him, but she could still feel Ulquiorra lean forward as he lessened the space between them.

He whispered in her ear. "He even doubted you, woman. Did he ever tell you that? The person you cherish most doubted you. Part of him, however minuscule, believed you really had traveled to Hueco Mundo of your own free will." When Orihime failed to reply, Ulquiorra went on. "With all this knowledge, why do you still so willingly give your heart to him? Even after he voluntarily put someone else before you? Even after his mistrust in you?"

Again, Orihime said nothing.

"Where is Kurosaki Ichigo?"

Orihime glanced over her shoulder. Ulquiorra's eyes looked black as she peered into them. "What do you mean?"

"Where is he?" he said once more. "You're dying right now, aren't you? But Kurosaki Ichigo is nowhere to be found. Why isn't he here with you now? Will he ever come back? And if he does, what will you do?"

Orihime blinked and the world slipped back into focus. She could feel her skin prickle with goose bumps from the frigid, pelting rain, hear her heavy breathing, and feel her mood rapidly fading into something sullen and miserable. It didn't take long for her to feel the hot liquid pooling in her eyes. She had never been more grateful for the rain.

"Inoue?" Ichigo whispered.

She stared up at him, quietly musing. She had questioned herself time and time again about her feelings for him. Orihime couldn't lie to herself; she did have her share of fantasies and reveries about this moment. But never in her wildest dreams did she believe it would happen. And as badly as Orihime wanted to be a little braver, touch him, take Ichigo's face in her hands and actually feel her lips against his, she just as badly wanted to hold onto their friendship.

At one point or another, Orihime had grown accustomed and finally accepting of the idea of her and Ichigo being nothing more than close friends. If, by rare chance, they ever decided to take their relationship to more romantic grounds, there was always the uncertainty of unchartered territory, of them ending on a bad note. That was the last thing Orihime wanted. So she had agreed to the tradeoff: no romantic love in exchange for their friendly conversations and their goodbyes at the ends of days spent in school, sweetened with the promise of seeing him the very next day.

Ichigo was smiling at her now, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "You're thinking, aren't you?"

"Yes," Orihime heard herself answer.

Brown eyes filled with mild curiosity. "What about?"

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded softly. "Why did you bring me here?"

Everything ceased to matter: the rain, their wet clothing clinging to their bodies, even the sound of thunder echoing loudly. Nothing mattered except this very moment. She felt Ichigo tense up and hastily let go of her hand as he stepped away from her. Orihime felt her heart sink but swiftly smothered the feeling, keeping her eyes leveled with Ichigo's wide ones. His attention abruptly went to the ground, looking anywhere but at her.

"I should go," Orihime said faintly. She turned on her heel and started in the direction of her apartment, but felt a strong grip on her elbow, halting her progress.

"Let me go."

"Inoue, please don't—"

"Let me go."

"I can't do that. Not until you hear me out."

"Why should I?" she snapped suddenly. "Why now?" But Orihime didn't give Ichigo time to respond. "I'm dying, Kurosaki-kun." It was the first time Orihime had said it out loud, yet she felt the least bit liberated by her admission. However, she couldn't stop herself now. Every thought and emotion she had chose to keep sealed because of his absence was rushing past her lips before she could stop herself.

"Whether I want it or not, I have friends taking care of me, waiting on me, helping me. I have people I can rely on, and I will always be indebted to them. But you left. You abandoned me for months. Now all of a sudden you're back and you expect me to forget about what you did with some doughnuts and hand-holding in the rain?"

"Inoue, that's not—"

Orihime pulled her arm from Ichigo's grasp, whipping around and pinning him with a fiery glare.

"I needed you!" Orihime yelled, trembling with angry. "And you left! I would have never done that to you! You would have never done it to Kuchiki-san! Why me?!"

Even in the darkness, she could still see Ichigo blanch. "Inoue…" he murmured sadly. "I'm sorry. But…I didn't know what to do! I went to my father, to Urahara, even to damned Seireitei! There was nothing I…they could do!"

"I don't want your apology! I don't want your excuses! I want an explanation! You owe me at least that!"

Ichigo bowed his head, and for a second, Orihime was convinced he would not answer her until he spoke up softly, his voice almost muted over the thunder and wind. "At one point during the war, I thought I'd never see the end of it. Our odds were so poor. It seemed everything was against us. But then it ended, and I thought no one would have to die anymore.

"I've seen death so many times, experienced it too much. Back then, it was all about getting to the next battle, making it until the next day, survival. And we survived. We fought a war, and even better, we won. So why did it come to this? Why?"

Ichigo neared Orihime, his voice sounding desperate. "Inoue, believe me when I say this: I would go back to Hueco Mundo in a heartbeat if it meant your safety, if it meant saving your life because I have the strength to protect you. I can actually do something with those kinds of odds!

"But when I found out you were dying from some stupid disease we couldn't even cure, I couldn't stand it. I lost it! I was so angry and so frustrated because I couldn't help you when you needed it most. I couldn't protect you. You weren't supposed to get sick and the world wasn't supposed to turn upside down and give us this when we all risked our lives to save it. It's not fair!"

"Not fair?" Orihime repeated, incredulous. "Is that your explanation? Something comes along that you can't fix, that you don't have the strength to fight, that you can't protect me from and you run away?"

"Inoue, I tried! I did everything I could!"

Ichigo reached for her but Orihime stumbled back, startled by his words. "…Everything you could," she mumbled. "You're a coward."

"What? Inoue, you don't mean—"

"You're a coward," she said again, her voice growing strong with fervor. "I didn't need your strength, Kurosaki-kun. And I didn't need your protection. I needed you to be by my side. It's not death that bothers you, it never has. It's losing." Her eyes went downcast. "Some people would believe you're brave because you're able to avoid death, even taunt it. But I don't. I know better."

She smiled sadly. "You already know dying is easy. Even if you don't go after it, death will always come. It's living that's hard. It's living, especially after loss, that scares you the most." Orihime looked up at him again. "So when you have something to lose next time, will you run away again, Kurosaki-kun?"

Ichigo was silent for several minutes. "Inoue, I—"

Orihime quickly turned her back on him and started for her home. She didn't want to wait to hear his answer.

______

_If anything, Orihime was not prepared for the painful flutter deep in the pit of her stomach. _

_The black skies of Hueco Mundo seemed stifling, overbearing. The cold wind was billowing through her hair and numbing her skin. Orihime was staring downward, her eyes fixed on the black ash laced so intricately with the white sand, twisting and coiling in the breeze. A certain emotion was slowly mauling away at her, consuming her. But she couldn't name it, and it would stay with her whenever her thoughts happened to stray. _

_The distinct smell of blood was heavy in the air as Ichigo limped toward her. "Inoue," he called. When she turned to face him, he smiled slightly, though a bit uncertainly. "Are you all right?" _

_"I'm fine," she answered automatically. Her eyes lingered on his wounds. "I should heal you." _

_Ichigo waved his hand in dismissal. "I'll survive." He pointed past her. "But can you take care of Ishida first? I can wait." _

_Orihime came back to her senses as she remembered the extent of Uryuu's injuries. By the time she reached him, he was sitting against a stone pillar, breathing heavily with his attention focused on the black sky._

_When she neared, Uryuu's eyes slid to hers and he offered her a tired smile. "Inoue-san," he greeted. "I hope you're all right." _

_Orihime merely nodded before she got to work. She held up her hands, her eyes fluttering shut as she let her mind clear of all thoughts except for Uryuu. Seconds later, Orihime felt the warm glow of reiastu beneath her fingertips as a golden, oval-shaped shield fell around Uryuu. Right before his eyes, his severed limb began to mend itself, the dry blood caked on his skin and clothing vanished, and his breathing evened out to a slower, more relaxed pace. _

_"Thank you so much, Inoue-san," Uryuu said. _

_Orihime flailed her arms as she let out a laugh, embarrassed. "It's nothing. I'm just glad I could help." _

"_Don't say that." He smiled again. "This is more than nothing. If we didn't have you on our side, who knows what would happen to us." Uryuu gingerly flexed his newly healed arm, bent each digit slowly and nodded his approval. "Perfect," he praised, "nothing less from you, Inoue-san."_

_The shield faded from existence, and Orihime, thoughts wandering, let her eyes roam the barren landscape of Hueco Mundo. She spied Ichigo perched on a small rock. The moon played dark shadows across his face, making his eyes appear black. And though his attention was focused on something in the distance, Orihime was sure his mind was thinking of faraway things, traveling to places none of them could possibly reach. _

_"Don't worry. It's not your fault," Uryuu said suddenly. When Orihime met his gaze, his blue eyes were filled with such compassion that for an instant, she was tempted to admit to him the utter turmoil that was raging inside her. If there was anyone who would understand, it would be Uryuu. He would not judge her. _

_Maybe if she hadn't begged for Ichigo to save her, maybe Ulquiorra…maybe…_

_"That Espada got what he deserved," Uryuu spat venomously, his words derailing Orihime's thoughts entirely. "Kurosaki's angry because he believes it wasn't a fair fight. But surely, Ulquiorra would have killed us all if he didn't first. I realize that now. There was no other way. It was for the best." His expression softened. "What Kurosaki turned into…don't blame yourself for that. It just happened. You're safe now, Inoue-san. That's all that matters." _

_Orihime felt numb and detached, as if she were witnessing this moment between two strangers instead of herself and Uryuu. She managed to hold his gaze for a moment longer before she bowed her head, hiding her eyes and forcing a bright, strained smile. _

_"You're absolutely right, Ishida-kun. I don't…I don't know what I was thinking." To Uryuu's surprise and confusion, Orihime sprang to her feet. "Excuse me," she said as she walked away. _

_"Inoue-san, where are you going?" he called. "Come back!" _

_But Orihime did not reply as she trekked briskly in the direction opposite of Uryuu and Ichigo. She came across a towering piece of boulder from the remains of a tower of Las Noches. She ducked behind it, safe in its shadow, and pressed her forehead against its cool surface. _

"_What's wrong with me?" Orihime questioned aloud. Unwanted, a trembling laugh escaped from her mouth. "I'm being ridiculous! Why am I acting this way? I…I…" She trailed off, choking on her words. _

_Before long, Orihime began to replay the last moments of Ichigo and Ulquiorra's fight in her mind's eye. Now that it was over, it seemed to have happened so quickly. And now Ulquiorra was dead, ash and dust in the wind, and there was nothing she could do about it, and this was not the way she wanted things to come to an end. _

_Orihime wrapped her arms around herself, leaned heavily against the rock as she slid down to the ground, her vision blurring with tears. She closed her eyes to stop them but to no avail. Hot liquid seeped easily from her lashes before rolling down her face. She bit her bottom lip to keep from sobbing, curled in on herself so she would not been seen. But no matter how much she tried to stop crying, fresh tears came anew, blinding her, unrelenting and overwhelming in their assault. _

_Smiling sadly, Orihime covered her face with her hands. "I…I don't u-understand…" _

_Ulquiorra was the enemy. _

_He attacked her friends. _

_He hurt Uryuu._

_Ichigo almost died because of him. _

_He tormented her, belittled her, made her feel more anger and sadness and frustration than she had ever wanted to feel. So why…?_

_"But you do understand. You know why."_

_Bewildered, Orihime opened her eyes, catching a glimpse of Shun'o through the space between her fingers. Though looking forlorn, the fairy smiled, answering the question Orihime did not dare say aloud. "You didn't need to summon me. Not for this. I feel everything you feel." _

_New sobs racked her body. Orihime began to shake. "Shun'o-san…what's wrong with me?" _

_"Orihime-sama, nothing's wrong with you," Shun'o cooed soothingly. She didn't bother to ask what exactly was troubling her mistress. Instinctively, she already knew, had felt it mount and build in Orihime's very soul before it had risen beyond her breaking point. _

_"I don't know what to do," Orihime said after a while. Her breath hitched sharply. "I don't know what to do except to cry. It seems like that's the only thing I can do right." _

_"Orihime-sama, you should never be ashamed of how you feel, regardless of what you feel. It's those same emotions that give us, you included, our strength and our power." Her voice grew soft, taking on a gentle tone. "Is it so wrong to feel remorse or guilt or to shed tears for an enemy?" When Orihime did not answer, Shun'o continued. "It doesn't have to be this way." _

_"What do you mean?" _

_"Remember you can change it. Whatever you desire, anything you want, as long as it is within your will and your conviction is strong."_

_At this, Orihime brought her hands down to her lap, her thoughts stuttering and leaping madly with the possibilities. "Anything I want…" she repeated. _

_"Yes," Shun'o reassured her._

_"Anything…"_

"_What is it that you want most, Orihime-sama?"_

_Even now, she could still hear Ulquiorra's faint, last words as he reached for her. _

_**This is it. This here in my hand. The heart. **_

**________**

Orihime laughed out loud. "I can't believe Abarai-kun did that?" She quickly dried off a wet cup with a dishrag, placed it on the dish rack and waited patiently for another item to wipe clean.

Rukia smiled, handing Orihime a freshly washed bowl. "I know. I couldn't believe it either. But then again, Renji can do very surprising things."

"So what happened after that?"

"Well…" The rest of Rukia's words muted to silence. Orihime blinked in confusion, spotting pops of lights dancing before her eyes. "Inoue." She glanced down and saw Rukia gazing intently at her. "Are you all right?"

"Of course," she said quickly. "Now, go on. What did Abarai-kun do?"

Rukia held her gaze for a moment longer before she went back to the task at hand. She gave Orihime a plate as she continued her story. "Well, Renji…"

Orihime's only warning was the soapy plate slipping from her fingers before her knees buckled beneath her. She gave a little gasp as she fell, a horrible, stabbing pain blooming deep in her chest. It was staggering and white-hot, coursing through her limbs, leaving her nearly immobile from its intensity.

Rukia was by her side in an instant. "Inoue," she murmured. Orihime could hear the worry, maybe even the fear, in her tone. She covered her mouth to hold back the blood. But it only gathered in her palm and leaked between her fingers before streaming down her hand. "Let me see," Rukia commanded.

Though she resisted at first, Rukia forcibly pulled her hand away. Orihime trained her eyes on her lips, watching as a deep frown tugged at them. Rukia wrapped an arm around her waist, taking the extra precaution not to agitate her body further, and rested Orihime's torso against her lap, propping her head with her knee. When Orihime began coughing once more, Rukia let out a muttered string of curses. Amused, Orihime managed a laugh, though it was gargled.

"It's not funny," Rukia snapped, though there was no bite behind her words. Her eyebrows drew together in obvious apprehension.

"No, it's not," Orihime agreed. Her smile widened despite her current condition. "It's hurts." The only thing she could compare her suffering to was fire, imaginary flames that licked and lapped at her flesh, setting her ablaze, leaving her quietly withering in agony.

"I should go get Urahara—"

"No," Orihime protested weakly. "I don't want to be by myself." She beamed. "Besides, it's not that bad. It'll pass." She inhaled deeply, only to cause another fit of trembling coughs. More blood was collecting, rising up, spilling past her parted lips and trickling in rivulets down the corners of her mouth. It was too difficult to talk, the red liquid sloshing around in her throat made it almost impossible.

"You're a terrible liar," Rukia admonished gravelly.

Orihime stared up at her for a length before she spoke again. "A while back, you…you asked me about Ulquiorra."

"You don't have to tell me," she protested. "It's not important—"

"It is," Orihime insisted. "You were right. I've been keeping everything to myself…so bottled up. I was so s-scared…of what you would think of me if you knew the truth. But I've wanted to t-tell you for months." Orihime breathed in and choked slightly when an excruciating throbbing enveloped her.

"Don't speak anymore. You have to preserve your strength."

Orihime grinned slightly. "Strength…it's funny…I used to think I didn't have any. For as long as I could remember, when it came down to it, I knew I depended on everyone else's strength. I was such a burden."

"Inoue, don't you remember what I told you? You're not a burden. You never were."

"I never believed you," Orihime replied. "I never wanted to believe you. That's why part of me was thankful when I left for Hueco Mundo. I thought that if I wasn't in the way, everyone who was strong enough could focus on training, everyone, who would actually make a difference during the war. No one would have to worry about protecting me. I wanted to keep the ones I loved safe from harm because I thought it was the least I could do, even though all I wanted was to be by your side.

"Ulquiorra knew this, understood it too well. But he couldn't comprehend why I was so loyal to you all. In Las Noches, he always made a point of challenging my beliefs, criticizing my convictions, intentionally provoking me." By this point, Orihime had been able to keep her voice steady and her breathing even. But as she said her next words, she could feel her eyes watering and tried to fight back the burn of tears.

"I knew who he was, what he was, what he could do. If he was ordered to, he would have killed you all without a second thought. I should hate him…but I don't. I can't." She let out a shaky laugh. "As bizarre as it might sound, Ulquiorra made me realize my strength, my determination, and my devotion to my friends. He made me see my worth because in Las Noches, I was truly alone. The only person I could depend on was myself. And for that, I'm thankful to him."

Orihime tried but could not keep the hitch out her voice as her throat tightened. "But then Ulquiorra died and I felt…I felt…because Kurosaki-kun…and I-I can't hate him…I w-wanted to save him! I didn't want him to d-die! I n-never wanted him to die!"

Rukia, taken aback, was silent for a long stretch of time. Finally, she gathered a sobbing Orihime in her arms and held her. "It's all right, Inoue." Rukia's hands were clutching at Orihime's shoulders, her fingers spreading comfort down through her chest like a beam of reassurance. "It's all right. It must have been so hard…keeping that to yourself."

She paused, choosing her next words carefully. "Sometimes, we draw our strength from unexpected places. Sometimes, it does take the least likely person, our very opposites, our own enemies, to make us realize who we really are and what we're capable of. Sometimes, they are the ones who bring out the best in us."

Orihime could feel herself being lulled by the soft movements of Rukia's fingers. "Really?" she inquired, voice trembling.

Rukia stroked her cheek, nodding. "There's no need for you to be ashamed of it, Inoue. Please don't be."

Orihime struggled to stay conscious. She attempted to speak but her chest suddenly, painfully constricted.

"Kuchiki-san," Orihime whispered. "I…"

"You don't have to say anymore, Inoue," Rukia reassured her. "I understand. I really do. It's all right."

"No, it's not that." Her next coughing fit left her body quaking. "Please…go get Urahara-san," Orihime requested.

Startled, Rukia stared down at her. "Urahara? But I thought—?"

With shaky fingers, she gripped at her friend's shoulder, her gaze imploring. "I need you to get Urahara-san."

After a moment's hesitation, Rukia settled Orihime against the kitchen wall before straightening up. But when she made no move toward the front door, Orihime managed a smile, though she was certain it came out as a grimace.

"I'm fine. I'll be right here…as soon as you get back. So please hurry."

As soon as the front door slammed shut, Orihime released a weak cough as she slid to the floor. She clutched at her chest, attempting to ease her breathing but to no avail. And as the pain in her body mounted, Orihime was acutely aware of her sudden regret and fear.

"Kuchiki-san…Kuchiki-san, come back," Orihime rasped. But when she received no answer, Orihime knew she was truly alone. But on some level, she preferred it this way. She did not want Rukia to see her like this.

"So what happens to me now?"

"I believe you already know."

Orihime glanced up and met Ulquiorra's gaze. He was standing above her, blocking the rays of sunlight filtering through the slightly parted curtains of the kitchen window.

Seeing him before her, Orihime felt her bottom lip tremble and her throat tighten. "No," she said. "I'm not ready."

Ulquiorra held her stare and Orihime wished she could shield herself from his scrutiny, keep his eyes from lingering on her shivering body, her pale skin, her helplessness.

"Whether you're ready or not," he said after a pregnant pause, "you don't have much choice in the matter, do you?"

Orihime chose not to answer. Instead, she pressed a hand to her mouth, tasting blood on her tongue.

"I don't know why it took me so long but I get it now. The nightly visits, the reason I could see you and no one else could. You're here for me. You were always here because of me," she murmured. "I did all of this."

"Yes," Ulquiorra said.

"Why?" she demanded. "Why?" Orihime was not surprised when he offered no response. There was no point in asking because they both knew the reason why.

"You know, I think about it…all the time," Orihime started quietly. "The way you looked at me, the way you reached for me." She straightened her arm out, extending her fingers against the hardwood floor. "There was something so perfect…so beautiful about the way we never did…" Orihime trailed off.

She suddenly felt extremely tired, more exhausted than she had ever thought possible. Rukia was taking longer than she'd expected. She wished she hadn't been so cold to Ichigo. She wanted to speak to Sado one more time. She wanted Uryuu to make her a desert, something with red bean paste. She needed Tatsuki to always smile, even if…

Orihime shut her eyes, preparing to fall asleep. But a heat against her hand stopped her. It took her a moment to realize it was Ulquiorra's hands. Her eyes snapped open and she gazed at her hand enclosed in his pale ones, as he kneeled before her. Even after all this time, they were still just as warm as she remembered.

Carefully, Ulquiorra brought her palm up to rest against his chest. "Inoue Orihime," he started. "Even in my last hour, your hand still found my heart."

She met his gaze then stared at her hand in his, the image seared in her mind as she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

______

With Urahara trailing close behind her, Rukia jogged, keeping her stride quick and even as she sprinted the length back to Orihime's apartment. It was a hot Saturday morning; her skin was already sticky and sweaty with the proof of it. But it was sunny and beautiful and did nothing to quell Rukia's anxious mood.

For the nth time that morning, Rukia found her thoughts going back to Orihime. She was no fool, and she was a reaper for a reason. Her knowledge and intimacy with death and all its properties was second nature to her. Orihime's death was inevitable and impending. She had accepted that fact a long time ago. But it still didn't keep Rukia from worrying every minute of everyday, of forcing herself to stay up late into the night just to hear Orihime breathe, of wondering if today would be her friend's very last. It hurt just as terribly as Rukia had expected, maybe even more so.

Then there was Orihime's soul. Rukia liked to picture in her mind a placid spirit bound for Soul Society. Orihime would be smiling and looking happier and healthier than she had in weeks, her heart absent of any regrets or misgivings.

Even still, to think of her like that, no more than a soul, a chain protruding from her chest, doomed for the afterlife, made Rukia's chest ache with grief. But she would try her best to make the rest of Orihime's time as enjoyable as possible. It was the only thing she could do for her, for the both of them.

With renewed motivation, Rukia ran the rest of the way back to Orihime's apartment.

______

**Author's Notes: **Well, I hope you enjoyed the story. Comments, suggestions, praise or constructive criticism is always appreciated. Thanks!


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